Strong
by Croyez
Summary: She desperately wanted to fall into his arms again, to fall into what was such a tormenting mystery to her...And that’s when she just couldn’t take it anymore. DG, One Shot


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, etc. They are the copyright of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing. I just borrow them for my own entertainment pleasure. The song lyrics at the beginning are not mine, either; they belong to Sting, and are from his song '_Whenever I Say Your Name'. _

Author's Note: One-shot. My second shot at D/G, by the way. I have developed a liking for this pairing, it seems. ) Anyway, feedback is much appreciated, whether it's constructive criticism, or just a happy review from a pleased reader. ****

_Whenever I say your name,  
No matter how long it takes,  
One day we'll be together_

Whenever I say your name,  
let there be no mistake  
that day will last forever

"And don't be afraid to tell people off, Ginny, okay? It's your right to. You're a Prefect. And don't be afraid to take House Points, even from Gryffindor. Fairness is very important in an authoritative figure. And don't be intimidated by any threats. You can have your wand ready, just in case. Some people get nasty, especially Slytherins. Stay away from those. And—"

Ginny groaned loudly, rolling her eyes, "Hermione, I'll be _fine_, I've been a prefect before, you know. I just have to check a few places, anyway. No one's going to rip my head off."

Hermione crossed her arms and gave her a sour look, "I know, but you should listen. Things are different this year…"

Ginny ignored her last comment altogether, "Ron's a prefect, too, and I don't see you lecturing _him_."

"I'll have a word with him soon, don't worry," Hermione said darkly, scanning the room for Ron, "He'll probably forget it all, though, or we'll end up arguing or something. He just doesn't _listen_."

"I wonder why…" Ginny muttered under her breath, sighing heavily. She shook her head, "Listen, Hermione, I'm just going to go now, okay? And don't you _dare_ send Harry in his Invisibility Cloak to look after me. I'll be fine."

Hermione scowled, but nodded, "Go, then. I'm just telling you what's best!"

Ginny turned, nodding wearily, and made her way out of the Common Room. She walked along the halls lazily, telling off the occasional student, bidding good night to the occasional teacher, and mostly minding her own business.

She sighed, hands tucked inside her robe pockets, and began to think about him, like did almost all the time now. It was more or less a bad habit she had acquired after seeing him over the summer at the Ministry so often. His father had been facing many inquiries regarding the mess at the Department of Mysteries, and he had been there most of those times, accompanying him. Ginny had been there on the hopes of finding a job that interested her, so she could study for it.

After the first time she saw him, though, she returned to the Ministry every day she could—which was mostly two days a week or so, on the hopes of seeing him again. She waited patiently until he'd arrive, even though she knew that it was ridiculously pathetic to wait for him each of those days, knowing he would probably not come. In those cases she would feel crushed, as if he'd betrayed her somehow by not showing up to unwillingly satiate her longing. When he did come, however, she would pass the place where he was sitting, usually outside a courtroom, and let her eyes linger fleetingly on his, wondering whether the misery he was experiencing now had changed him. He couldn't possibly wake up each passing day without feeling different. Not after all the scorn he and his family were getting, the snide comments, the exile they had been forced to live in after the disarray at the Department of Mysteries.

It sounded odd, even to herself. Draco Malfoy couldn't possibly have changed. It just wasn't possible. He was as arrogant as they came, and every comment from the press or from anyone probably just bounced off him.

She wanted to believe that. She really did. Dammit, why couldn't she believe that? It was so frustrating to see him everyday at school, all the while feeling a strong urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him as tightly as possible, to snog him passionately, to confess feelings that she didn't even know she felt.

Why couldn't she hate him like she always had? Why was it so hard for her to sneer an insult at him when he passed, like he had done to her so many times? Why did she think about him so much, and in such an odd way?

Oh, Merlin.

No. She did _not _love Draco Malfoy. She might find him attractive. She might even refer to what she felt as _fancying _him, but please, never as _loving _him. That was just over the line. She couldn't love someone who had insulted her so much, who had always felt himself superior to her, whose family was so full of dark wizards.

Someone that was, clearly, so very different from her. It was just…wrong. They wouldn't live past two weeks together.

And besides, he didn't feel the same way. Assuming she did feel about him in a special way, which she didn't.

Of course she didn't.

_Sod it. Fine. I have feelings for Malfoy. But why do I have to be as pathetic as coming down to the Dungeons to look at him? That is just…sad._

Ginny wrapped her arms around her shoulders, shivering. It really was a lot colder down here. And the atmosphere was just so…somber. Dark. Frightening. The flames from the torches danced in an eerie manner as they illuminated a section of the passage, while the rest was immersed in darkness. She could have sworn she was hearing soft whispers in her ear, footsteps behind her…she could have sworn she felt hands graze her shoulders gently, rising to her neck and lingering for just a moment.

But as she turned swiftly, she saw nothing there. It made her feel frightened again. The haunting emptiness that seemed to fill the corridor…the dark shadows that seemed to be moving towards her, the unforgiving cold on her skin…

"Well, something seems to be out of place here…"

Ginny yelped, turning around in the direction of the voice. Pansy stood there, smiling nastily, wand in hand. Several other figures flanked her, but they were hard to make out.

Ginny was unable to speak as she got over the shock. Had they been following her?

"Are you lost, Weasel? Surely, you must realize you're in the wrong place. Do you know what happens to stupid little Gryffindor prats when they go nosing around where they don't belong?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, trying to think of a way to get her wand without their noticing, "I'm a prefect, Parkinson. It is my job to check that things stay in order. And I would advice you to cut back on the threats."

Pansy rolled her eyes, waving at someone behind her. In a flash of red light, Ginny was being slammed to the wall painfully, before she slumped to the floor with a groan, clutching her middle. She heard footsteps before her, and suddenly someone was forcing her to raise her head. Pansy's eyes were locked on hers, narrowed, "Stay out of Slytherin business, Weasley, if you value your life at all," She smirked, "Things are changing around Hogwarts now."

Then she released her, walking away, a cluster of people closely behind her. Ginny winced, moving her hand towards her wand in an attempt to curse her back, but she couldn't. The pain made her feel as if her insides were crumbling as it jolted across her arm, through her bones. It felt as if she had broken something, though somehow, she was sure she hadn't. She gasped and slowly dropped her arm back down to the floor, lowering her head and closing her eyes.

_What do I get myself into? I come down here to sneak a glance at Malfoy, and happen to barge into private Slytherin business? This is just mental. _

_Oh, please just make this go away…I'll just wake up and find that this was all just a deluded dream…that I'm in my bed, safe…_

As her muscles relaxed and the pain lessened, she felt herself dissolve into a place slightly between reality and her dreams. She wavered from her fantasies to her real life, to a fleeting recognition of where she was and in what state, before going back. She tried to get up, to get her wand, but her arms didn't seem to be able to move. Nothing in her body seemed to want to cooperate…she felt as if she were slowly going insane; numb from the pain, from her anger, from her uncertainness…

From her overwhelming feeling of deception. She felt as if she had somehow failed, as if she were truly going to die and no one would ever know why, as if she'd never really lived out her dreams…

Her thoughts became more drastic as she felt consciousness completely slipping away. She would close her eyes and fall into herself, into her peace. She would be fine now, she could see…

And then she was being hauled to her feet. Quite painfully, actually. Her eyes shot open in anger, watering, as her face contorted in a half-scowl, half-grimace. She let out a small whimper, tears sliding from her eyes now. She tried to speak, to tell whomever it was to let go, but her mouth couldn't move. It seemed frozen, half open in her grimace, letting out small noises of pain.

"Bloody hell," she heard him whisper. She knew that voice, didn't she? Who…who was it?

"What did they do to you? _Damn_ _it_."

She felt something like a kick to her stomach. The air slipped away from her, her eyes widening as she realized that she was in the arms of Draco Malfoy as he fumbled for his wand in his robes. She looked back up at him, her vision blurred somewhat, and saw his frowning face, twisted in concentration. He had pointed his wand to her side now, muttered something, and suddenly she could see clearly. The pain on her side lessened considerably, and she felt wide awake.

"You—!"

His eyes met hers as she lost her voice again, gaping at him. She shook herself from his arms, falling painfully to the floor again. He frowned at her, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, and bent to grab hold of her again, but she pushed away with her legs, wincing as the floor scraped her skin. Her hand shot for her wand, and her fingers curled around the handle. She whipped it out, pointing it at him menacingly, before pointing it to herself and muttering a feeble healing charm. The pain was completely gone now, so she challenged herself to stand up. With a glare at Malfoy, she came to her feet and turned sharply away from him, willing herself to ignore the fact that he had, apparently, been about to take care of her.

She heard his voice behind her, muttering in a low voice that was still loud enough for her to hear, "You're welcome, Weasel."

She turned, eyes narrowed and frosty, "I don't have reason to thank you," she said in a low voice, cold enough to rival his, "Thanks to your friends, I could have gotten seriously hurt."

Malfoy smirked, shrugging, "No one told you to come sticking your pretty little nose where it doesn't belong."

"I can go wherever I want. And this is going to be reported to the Headmaster, just so you know," Ginny added, crossing her arms and holding her breath for a moment. She couldn't do this…she wanted to thank him, somehow, to blurt everything out now, but she wouldn't let herself. She convinced herself, if only for a moment, that she didn't have anything to say to him.

"I wouldn't advice you to make empty threats. You don't have the upper hand here," he said softly, his eyes now locked on hers, narrowed in a different way than usual. It was as if he were saying more to her than what she heard…as if he was trying to send her a different message.

But she ignored it, narrowing her eyes, not wanting to believe, "We'll see about that," she remarked, turning on her heel and walking as fast as she could without actually running away. Her frame rigid, hand still clutching her wand, she walked out of the Dungeons, feeling as if she would be ambushed at any moment by a large group of Slytherins led by Malfoy.

But she wasn't. She made it back to Gryffindor Tower safe and sound, though her side was still aching rather painfully. She mad her way straight up to bed, ignoring Hermione's questions about how it all went, and looking forward to the soft comfort of her privacy.

In her dorm, she slipped her robe off lazily and slumped on her bed, still wearing her uniform. Unable to escape her thoughts once more, she closed her eyes, facing the ceiling now, and begun to dwell on it. On him, like she always did.

Draco Malfoy had, apparently, wanted to help her.

It just didn't sound right, did it? It didn't seem as if it could really happen. Had she dreamed all that? Was she going to wake up now and find that it was morning?

Somehow, she was rather glad it wasn't a dream.

Heck, it was all completely upside down. She really couldn't make head or tails of it, of what he'd done tonight. She didn't want to believe it, to bring false hopes to herself…

But she liked it. Sod it, she really did.

_Two weeks and four days later_

This was frustrating. Everything was. And Ginny hated it.

First off, she had a bloody Potions essay to write and no one was around to help her. Like she had a clue of what Snape had been talking about when he assigned it. She'd been worrying about better things, thanks very much.

Second, she was supposed to be patrolling the corridors again, but couldn't, because she had to finish the essay. Despite the uninteresting things that empty corridors held, she liked the quiet that filled the halls. She liked to think.

And last but not least, Draco wouldn't leave her mind. It was as if the memory of him was stitched into the inside of her skull, and he was there, present in everything she thought of. Everything reminded her of him nowadays. Clothes? Malfoy. Hair? Malfoy. Food? Malfoy. History of Magic? Malfoy again. Harry? You guessed it—Malfoy.

She'd been engaged in heated debates with herself as to why she couldn't stop thinking about him. Logically, the first thing that came to mind was that she fancied him. But she couldn't accept that, so she always came up with an argument against that. That she merely pitied him. That she just felt curious because she didn't know who he was. That she hated him so much that she couldn't stop thinking about him.

Lately, though, it had become steadily harder to think of a good rebuttal to herself.

Could it be that she really was in love with him?

Dropping her quill, Ginny rested her head in her right hand. There was no way around it, was there? She would have to figure this out another way, or else she would truly go mad. She couldn't keep this up anymore. She hated being caught up in a question; she hated being kept in the dark. She wanted answers, clarity, and it seemed that to have that, she would have to take action.

So it would be, then.

Malfoy wouldn't have the upper hand on her head for much longer.

_Surely, Harry won't mind that I have his Invisibility Cloak. What would he prefer, that I get caught by some more crazed Slytherins and hexed to death? And this is for the better good, anyway. _

The castle truly looked a different way when you knew you could go anywhere and not get caught. The doors seemed more inviting, the torches seemed lit with a different fire, and nothing seemed quite as restraining as before. There were no rules, only secrets and the thrill of not getting caught.

Ginny liked it this way. She liked not playing the good little girl for a change, taking a stroll under the cloak, up to do…well, whatever she was going to do. She still didn't really _know _what she wanted. All she knew was what she needed, and that was to go and talk to Draco. Or just watch him. Or whatever. She just needed to do this, for her own sanity. She needed some kind of sign, something that would help her sort this out.

Even though she liked roaming the castles in secret, she still felt jumpy at any movement. Anything walking by—a teacher, a rat, a student—made her heart jump up to her throat in shock. She'd hold her breath for a few moments, until the danger passed, her hands clammy and her eyes wide. And when she was safe, she'd smile to herself, thinking of how much she enjoyed the feeling of triumph, of knowing she had slinked by undetected. That she had power to do whatever she wanted, and no one could ever know it was her.

She managed to make her way down to the Dungeons once more. For some reason, she had decided that Draco's quarters—he was Head Boy, after all—should be down there, too, for there wasn't any real point in moving him somewhere else. The only problem would be finding it, but she wasn't troubled by that. How concealed could it be?

The Dungeons didn't quite seem as frightening as the last night she had been there. Maybe it was the presence of more lit torches, but Ginny liked to think it was because she felt more secure of herself tonight. She couldn't be seen, and hopefully not heard. She felt strong, knowing that.

But somehow, her feeling of being strong seemed to lessen as she thought of Malfoy again. If anything, the memory of him seemed to make her as weak as she'd ever been, her knees feeling as if they might give way and let her fall to the ground, and her hands numb, clammy.

Why was it that only he did this to her, and without even being present? Why couldn't she feel this way about someone—anyone—else?

And Merlin, why was she risking herself like this, coming down here? She was laying her heart on the line for him, for someone that would surely scoff at her and make her life miserable from the moment she appeared at his door.

But nothing seemed to make sense anymore, did it? Her life was turned completely upside down, and she could only try stupid things like this to fix it.

Ginny sighed. It was as if her mind and body knew something she didn't.

She waded through the dungeon corridors as quietly as it was possible, looking for Draco's quarters. For some reason, they seemed to be completely hidden from view, which frustrated her. _No_, she couldn't have thought of taking that map Harry always used…it would have been _bloody useful_, but _no_. She just couldn't have _thought_ about it.

Just when she thought she'd just go back to Gryffindor Tower and sulk, she saw a door appear out of nowhere before her. It was made of a beautiful, shiny mahogany, and seemed to have snake carvings upon it. There were no words written, but she simply knew this was the place. She could feel it, dammit.

And she'd better not be wrong, because she didn't want to barge into Snape's quarters at all.

_Ugh, disgusting…Snape in a bathrobe…ugh._

_Ginny! Focus! Draco. You're here for Draco, remember? The guy who's been driving you insane since, what, June? The one you love but want to hate with a passion?_

_I do not love him! _

_…I think…_

With the determination she didn't know she possessed, she slipped the Invisibility Cloak off and walked swiftly towards the door, pushing it open without ever really thinking about it. As she realized what she'd done, she jumped back, and braced herself for his outburst.

It never came, though.

He…he wasn't there. She could tell it was his room for sure now, though. It _smelled _like him, in a very nice way. And there were also several of his things scattered along the room—his broom, clothes, shoes, and his wand, lying on the bedside table.

Her eyes fell on the bed, unmade, covered in dark green satin sheets. She smiled idly, not really very aware of anything now. She was enticed by his scent now, lulled to a dream-like state. She made her way to the bed in a few small steps, and sat down on it. She did nothing at first, simply running her hand over the soft material and losing herself in its texture. A few minutes later, however, she found herself lying down, nuzzling her head in his pillow. His scent was very perceptible now, and had her completely entranced. Her eyes fluttered to a close, a contented smile on her lips…

"What the…?"

His annoyed, surprised voice brought her back to her senses, though slowly. Her eyes shot open, and she felt momentarily confused as to where she was. She turned her head towards the door, where a vague light was pouring in and a person stood. She took in his appearance quickly, yet it took her a moment to fully register it.

"Bloody hell!" she hissed, shooting up from the bed and coming to a standing position. Her ears and cheeks reddening, all she could do was stare at him in embarrassment as he continued to watch her.

"This is certainly a first," he remarked, a smirk coming to his lips, "Never thought I'd come to find you on my bed after midnight, Weasley."

She blushed harder at his words. Her eyes narrowing, she summoned the courage to look at him in the eye, "You'd wish," she spat, "I'm here for…err…" the words seemed to fail her. Her eyes widened momentarily as she did some quick thinking. What _was_ she here for?

_Oh, what have I done? I don't have a reason to be here! Oh…oh, Merlin, what am I going to do?_

"For what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He took a step closer, and Ginny was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was alone with him in his room, deep in the Dungeons.

She took a step back, her breathing becoming more rapid. She urged herself to think of something, to do something—anything! To run, lie, curse him, beg…anything to get her out of there.

"Please…leave me alone…"

Draco gave her an incredulous look, "You're the one who barged in here while I wasn't here. I'm just looking for an explanation, Weasley, and you're not leaving until I get one," he took several steps towards her, closing the distance between then and somehow pinning her to the wall. She looked up at him, anger and frantic despair in her eyes, and tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Malfoy…" she said in a choked whisper, "Let me go now…you'll regret it if you don't," the last part came out rather stronger, and she felt a momentary rush of confidence.

He leaned forward, his skin grazing hers as he whispered in her ear, his voice a soft drawl, "What are you going to do about it? I'm not going to hurt you, Ginny. I just want you to tell me why you're here."

She frowned as he used her name. She relaxed under his grip, and he let go of her, taking a step backwards. She looked up at him, into his cold gray eyes, and saw something there. Behind all the coldness, the malice, there was more. A softness uncharacteristic of him, hidden behind it all. The sight of it made her knees weak, and she desperately wanted to fall into his arms again, to fall into what was such a tormenting mystery to her…

And that's when she just couldn't take it anymore.

"_That's_ why," she said through gritted teeth, "That's why I'm here. This all started with the illusion that you had changed. And there it is again, haunting me."

He frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't let him. She didn't have anything to lose now, did she? Sod it all, she'd tell him everything.

"I," she drew in a breath, "am in love with you. It's not lust. It isn't anything I've ever experienced. This is different. You're different…and that scares me. It confuses me," she continued to hold his gaze, even as his expression constantly changed between bewilderment and that odd softness, "I can't deny it anymore, even to myself. I'm sick of wondering, and I'm tired of thinking about you night and day. I want out, dammit, and I'm not leaving until I have this sorted out!"

He just stared at her, his face unreadable now. She felt that this was good, somehow. It meant he didn't find this all sickly funny or pathetic.

She was shocked, however, when he said, in a low voice, "Do you think this is something you can just…forget about?"

She looked at him silently, hating him for making this so difficult. She didn't know what she'd expected, but she truly just wanted her uncertainly to end. She wanted to be sure, and his answer had only made her wonder more. She walked towards him slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his. She slipped a hand behind his neck, leaving it to rest there, and placed the other on his shoulder. She looked up at him again, fleetingly, before doing something she never pictured herself doing. She could feel her heart pounding nervously in her chest; hear her frantic thoughts going on in her mind…but she ignored it all. She needed this now. Her lips met his in a soft, chaste kiss. His body felt tense, and she wondered whether she'd done the wrong thing. But he pressed his lips harder to hers, wrapping his arms around her, and the thought vanished, along with her doubts.

She knew what she felt. But what about him?

As if hearing her thoughts, he pulled away, shaking his head, "I…we can't do this, Weasley."

His voice was back to his cold manner again, and she couldn't help but notice his use of her surname rather than her first name, "What do you mean?"

"This. Us. It can't be, and you know it."

Ginny felt her insides grow cold, numb, "W-Why?"

His gaze shot up to meet hers, an incredulous look on his face as he snorted, though it wasn't from amusement, "Why do you think? We're in the middle of a War, Weasley, and we're on opposite sides. You know it won't work. I can't."

Ginny looked at him with pleading eyes, "Oh, but it can work, Draco…if this is true…if this—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he hissed, "I'm a Death Eater. For you to be with me would mean putting you in danger…and I care for you too much to do that."

"And you think you can take this? Being apart?"

"I have so far," he said, shrugging. He gave her a dark look, "This isn't about what we want. It's about what's safest. I'm sorry, Weasley, but…we can't. I'm not putting you in danger," he said, his voice taking a rougher edge as he continued to speak.

The words stung. Pain shot up inside her as he made his way towards her, a concerned look on his face. She gave him a fierce look, "Don't come near me," she said quietly, her head held low, "Just…don't. How can you be so nonchalant about this? If you really cared…if I really mattered to you…you wouldn't do this to me."

He stopped walking, and she felt his gaze still on her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to shake some sense into him. She wanted to yell, to scream, to cry, to let him know just how much he was hurting her for doing 'what was safest'. She wanted to hurt him back, to make him feel the way she did, but she couldn't summon the strength. She was weak, beaten. Everything was gone, now.

"You don't know anything," he hissed, and she heard his retreating footsteps, exiting the room, and the dull thud of the door as it was shut. Ginny felt her breathing become more rushed, forced, as if she were fighting to take in air. She felt her eyes water, her teeth grit, her hands clench…she could only hear the sound of her ragged breathing, mingled with her sobs, along with his words in her head, playing over and over again. She felt she would go insane from this, from this unbearable pain and hate, from the weakness that had welled up inside her as he had turned her down. She couldn't take it…she couldn't.

Why could he be so calm? Sure, his parting words had implied that he did feel more than she thought, but…if he did, why did he do this to her? Why did he make her suffer like this?

She pleaded that he were still there…she wished and pleaded with all her might that he hadn't left yet, because if he had she would surely die. She couldn't let him go. Not now. It had just been a kiss, but, oh, how much it had said…how much he had said before he left…

How much she knew now…

The door seemed so far away…as if, with each step she took, it moved further back. As if it were trying to keep her from him.

It wouldn't.

She grasped for the door, gasping, and wrenched it open. There was nothing, nothing but cold, stone walls, barely lit torches, and a painful, terrifying emptiness. He was gone. He had left her….forever. She had lost him…

"Please…oh, please…" she sobbed, tears coming in enormous quantities, "Oh…come back…"

Silence greeted her words. She slumped against the doorframe, sobbing loudly, strands of her hair sticking to her damp cheeks. She bit her lip, gazing down at the floor, "I...I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "Please…don't do this…"

He didn't come. As the minutes passed by, Ginny sobbed harder and cried more than ever. Her legs weakened, she let herself fall to her knees, where the unforgiving, cold floor gnawed at her bare skin. But she didn't feel it. There was no pain comparable to the dull aching of her heart as she continued to mutter for him to come back, as she continued to whisper his name and pray that he would come back for her. She never seized to wonder how he could be so strong about all this…how he could feel this way and ignore it, ignore her. How he could leave her alone to suffer, all for her safety?

She didn't know how much time had passed. Her red hair seemed to have lost its gleam, and was lying half over her face in a messy tangle. The tears had dried on her skin, though her eyes were still red and swollen. Her hands were pale from the cold, with marks from where she'd dug her fingernails in an attempt to bring herself back to reality. Her legs were completely numb, with mild marks from the floor.

But she didn't notice.

She came to her feet, went into the room and retrieved the Invisibility Cloak. Draping it over her shoulders, she didn't think about the pain. The pain had frozen inside her, and was now left there as a reminder of him.

She only thought about how she had come to be here. How this had all come to be.

She didn't remember clearly when it had all started. She could assume it had been that night when they ran into each other in the dark corridor, but that would be naïve. This had started much, much before. It dated back to all those secret glances and flirtatious smiles, to those patrolling sessions together, to those heated threats in the corridors. If she were more drastic, she'd say it started during the summer.

One thing was for sure, though. It had always been him. She knew that now, after it had all happened. She had never felt such despair, such love, such care and worry at the hands of anyone.

It was odd, how a sixteen-year-old girl could just _know, _but she did. She just knew he was the one, and that she wouldn't be happy with anyone else. She could never be with another man and not look back at him with a look of longing, with a fire building inside her as she struggled to turn away.

She would find her way back to him someday. She didn't care how long it took, but she couldn't forget this now. He was right. This wasn't something that could just be solved and forgotten. This was so much more…

Her eyes found the place where he stood in the shadows, watching her, or the place where she'd been. She felt momentary surprise; a momentary wish to run to him, but she stopped herself. It was odd, how a person could change so much. How he could care for her so much, that he'd make both of them suffer just so she could be safe. How he could force himself to watch her cry desolately, calling him, and stay hidden quietly.

"I'll wait, you know," she said softly, watching as his expression changed to one of surprise, eyes darting to find her, "This isn't something I can simply forget about."

He didn't answer. He just nodded quietly and walked back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

Ginny smiled to herself, knowing he wouldn't be strong for much longer.

It was just a matter of time.


End file.
